


the reason that i laugh and breathe

by glim



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Best Friends, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, M/M, University
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-17
Updated: 2011-05-17
Packaged: 2017-10-19 12:13:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/200732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glim/pseuds/glim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein Arthur falls in love with his best friend. (His best friend with benefits.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	the reason that i laugh and breathe

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Quirky](https://archiveofourown.org/works/106573) by [glim](https://archiveofourown.org/users/glim/pseuds/glim). 



> Many thanks to kivrin & inspiredlife for beta reading. <3

  
_and the reason that i laugh and breathe is oh love and the reason_  
that i do not fall into this street is love.  
e.e. cummings, you being in love... (XII)  


"What are we reading?" Arthur asked, tucking himself in close to Merlin on the sofa in the back of the uni café. "Will I enjoy it?"

Merlin raised his eyes from the page and nodded. " _The Uncommon Reader._ And yes," he replied and flipped the page to start a new section without heeding Arthur's uncertain frown.

"Hm." Arthur leaned in to read over Merlin's shoulder. "You always say that, no matter what you're reading, and I don't even understand what's going on in half the books you read." He paused and read another few sentences. "That's why you like half these books, isn't it? Because you don't understand them either?"

"Possibly." Merlin turned another page, sliding one finger beneath it and then smoothing it down with the flat of his palm. "Did you get my texts?"

"What? Oh. Yeah. Not sure I understood those either."

"Sorry, yeah, those were words from my poetry course reading."

Arthur gave another frown, trying not to look stupidly fond of Merlin in the moment when Merlin peered at him again, all bright blue eyes and dark fringe and black-framed reading glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose. "You sent me incomprehensible poetry texts?"

"Um." Merlin wrinkled his nose to try and work his glasses back up his face. "Yeah? I like it when you read stuff with me."

"I have my own coursework to finish, you know." Arthur fought the fondness from his voice and toed at the bag he'd dropped down next to Merlin's. "I read most of it, though," he added.

"I know." The barest hint of a smile, the smallest, briefest quirk at the corner of his mouth, touched Merlin's face. He glanced sideways at Arthur, peering at him just beyond the rims of his glasses, and, right when Arthur caught his eye and started to smile himself, Merlin turned his attention back to his book. A moment passed, during which an unidentifiable, unfamiliar thing caught in Arthur’s chest, a little skip in his breathing, and then it was gone, and Arthur found himself gazing back down at the novel he and Merlin were reading.

Or, well, Arthur supposed it was a novel. At some point Merlin would probably tell him it was a novelette or -- and this was Merlin's favorite thing of late -- a _mixed-genre text._ Which, contrary to his recent declaration, Arthur did understand, at least when it was bits of poetry mixed in with the storytelling. Anything more mixed than that he left to Merlin, who took utter glee in explaining to Arthur the intricacies of whatever he was reading, complete with quoted passages and underlined and annotated examples from his book.

That's where Arthur's comprehension usually began to fail. Not of the books -- he'd probably get a fine grasp on those if he really did sit down and finish everything Merlin recommended to him -- but of the near mad enthusiasm and involvement for his coursework. Though he enjoyed all of his courses, especially the French ones, most of his work in International Business didn't inspire that kind glee. Not the sort of Merlin-ish glee that made his eye shine and his words tumble from his mouth, half-incomprehensible, his hair an odd fluffed-up mess and his scarf flipping about as he flailed to explain some apparently related but equally obscure point.

No, that was all Merlin. Arthur edged in a bit closer to watch Merlin mark out some passage in his book and smiled to himself. He wasn't a-flail now and Arthur could see more clearly the little thought-lines on his face, and how his not quite so mussed hair was getting long enough to curl down behind his earlobes. He was wearing the ridiculous blue knitted scarf and his favorite striped beanie was shoved into his jumper pocket, though, what with the weather having started to turn autumnal in the past week.

 _Ridiculous,_ Arthur thought, and traced the curve of Merlin's ear with his gaze, wondering if the idea that knowing his hair would be quite soft was the one that caused that odd little skip in his chest to happen again.

"It's because you don't pay attention," Merlin said at length and his words were low and quiet beneath the clatter of coffee shop activity. " _Arthur._ " Still quiet, his voice sharpened, and Arthur could hear that stupid smile start to curve Merlin's lips once more as he realized that he'd startled Arthur from his daydreaming gaze

"I do so." His attempt at looking affronted failed when Merlin laughed; Arthur was certain he just look surprised based on how Merlin kept laughing after he looked at Arthur.

"See. Totally not paying attention."

Arthur glared -- well, he suspected that it looked more like a pout -- and turned away from Merlin. Who started elbowing him in the side, trying to find the ticklish spot around Arthur's ribs, and laughed again when that had Arthur wriggling away from him involuntarily.

"Don't be so stodgy. Will you feel better if I let you buy me a mocha?"

"I'm not stodgy. And pardon me?" Arthur shifted further from Merlin, ended up knocking over Merlin's messenger bag, and shifted back to pull his Business French textbook from his own bag. "You'll _let_ me buy you a mocha?"

"Mm. Or I'll buy you one. Either way, I need caffeine to get through the rest of the day. You know how I feel about Thursdays."

"Right, right, never got the hang of them. And, yeah, but I don't want --"

"I know. Weird vanilla stuff, with two sugars, heaps of milk."

"A coffee with vanilla flavor is not weird. Indulgent whipped cream covered things that mask the caffeine?" Arthur pulled his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans. "Those are weird. Here."

"I seriously don't think you can drink five pounds worth of coffee Or, if you can, I don't want to watch."

"It's all I have," Arthur lied and flipped through his notes. "Just... pay for whatever with it. Get a biscuit or something."

Merlin was gone when Arthur looked up, chatting happily to the baristas while they fixed his and Arthur's coffees. One of the boys behind the counter nodded towards Arthur and Merlin nodded back, then turned, smiling, and showed Arthur the biscuits he'd chosen.

Arthur ducked his head, bashful all of a sudden, and settled down further into the sofa cushions to wait for Merlin to return. When he did, he had two coffees and a whole plate full of chocolate biscuits.

"Who are all those for?"

"What? Oh. You. Percy at the counter --" Merlin nodded back towards the bloke he'd been talking to. "-- he thinks you're fit. I think he's been mooning over you for about a month."

"That's ridiculous." Arthur took one of the chocolate biscuits from the dish and nibbled on the edge. "Why would anyone --"

"-- why wouldn't anyone?" Merlin asked, his smile a little less stupid and a little more infuriating. His knee bumped against Arthur's and he hid behind his frothy mocha before Arthur could retort. "You should go talk to him."

"Now _you're_ ridiculous. And you have whipped cream on your nose."

"Mm. I'm also delicious, then." Merlin swiped the back of his hand across his nose and curled up, kitten-like, around his mocha and his book, leaving Arthur to his coffee, biscuits, and coursework.

+

Despite Merlin's tendency to flirt with other boys _for Arthur_ and to then deny it and his even more annoying tendency to text Arthur hours before Arthur's alarm was set to go off, Arthur still agreed to meet Merlin again at the Caffè Nero closest to Merlin's flat on Friday morning. Never mind he always agreed; he loved quiet Friday mornings at the café that left him time for a mid-morning run before an afternoon of doing work and evening of hopefully not doing work.

"Though, really, it's because I'm benevolent," Arthur explained to Gwen, who was already at the coffee shop. "Otherwise, I'd probably go running first, then sit in the café for a while."

"Riiiiiight."

"You know, it's too early for you to be skeptical."

Gwen lowered her organic chemistry book a few inches and _looked_ at Arthur. See, Gwen was the first person Arthur had met at uni, the first person who'd smiled at him during freshers' week and directed him both to the library and bookstore. Later that same day she'd smiled again, unsurprised to meet him at an LGBTQ Mixer, and invited him to a party some second-years she knew were having. She loved the color yellow, vodka tonics, chemistry, and her girlfriend, Freya, who worked at the uni café and wanted to save all the sea creatures, great and small.

"Right." Gwen put the book down in her lap and stared at Arthur again. "I suppose, at times, I might say you're benevolent, usually toward tiny children and puppies and sometimes your sister. But, um. With Merlin? You're both so..." She waved her hand in a vague sort of way. "You do realize everyone knows you two are sleeping together? You're not exactly subtle."

And.

There.

_There._

At the center of Arthur's chest. That odd skipping sensation. Between his heartbeat and his breath.

_Fuck._

"It's not like it was a secret. And it's just... so we're sleeping together. So?" Voice gruff with embarrassment and sudden uncertainty, Arthur reached for his morning tea and took a few sips until he felt his tongue burn. "Lots of people sleep with their friends."

"Most people don't sleep with their best friends. Unless their partners become their best friends, in which case, best-friend-sex is totally viable. And expected. But, yeah, otherwise?"

"Merlin's not my best friend." And immediately after he said it, Arthur knew he was wrong, completely and utterly and stupidly wrong. "It's your fault, anyway, you're the one who first decided that you were too lesbian to date me, and then introduced me to Merlin."

Gwen didn't say anything this time. Which, really, was more due to her noticing that Merlin had just burst into the café than anything else. She smiled and waved him over, and moved her books from the armchair by the sofa so he could sit down.

"I'm late! Oh my god. How long have you been here?" Merlin sat down with a breathless huff and pulled off his beanie hat. His hair fluffed up in a crazy ruffle and he spent a good minute trying to smooth it down. "Gwen, hey."

"Not long. Or, Arthur hasn't been here long. I've been here a while, but that was just a coincidence." Gwen moved her tea cup and empty plate to make room for Merlin's bag as he sorted through it to find his wallet.

"How are you even late? You were up at five this morning to text me." Arthur started to reach for his own wallet, but stopped once Merlin found his own. "Which, by the way, don't forget you need to buy a portfolio. Is that enough of a non-text reminder?"

"Thanks, yeah, and right, I know, but I started reading, and then I forgot I wanted to shower, and then my flatmates were up and trying to cook breakfast or do some science experiment. See, it's just better when you stay the night, because then I'm up and ready when you are and oh shit. Um." Merlin flushed pink over his ears and his lips moved silently for a few seconds before he tried speaking again. "I mean -- sometimes Arthur. He spends the night. Or! Or. He sleeps on the sofa... which Arthur would never sleep on unless he were totally drunk because he swears it's infested. Well. Crap."

Both Arthur and Gwen let Merlin suffer for a minute, but he looked so disoriented and not quite awake and helpless, that Arthur finally relented. "It's fine. Apparently, everyone already knows. Or so Gwen tells me. And it wasn't a secret, so I don't know why you're worried about saying anything."

"You never say anything! Not that you should. Oh, I don't know. I need something with artificial energy."

Poor Merlin. Why he bothered getting up so early when there really wasn't any need was beyond Arthur. Though, to be fair, Merlin was right. It was better when Arthur stayed the night. Most of the time, they ended up sleeping past six, having a shower together, and then going to Arthur's flat or to the café for breakfast before lectures and tutorials and library time. Arthur took a slow slip from his hot tea and considered the possibility of everything getting a bit odd now that he and Merlin had actually talked about their friends-with-benefits arrangement in front of somebody else.

"Hey." Merlin flopped down onto the sofa when he returned with tea. "Gwen left already?"

"She has work at the lab to do. Merlin," Arthur said, and paused when Merlin rested his head on Arthur's shoulder.

"What? You should come on over tonight. I'll make dinner."

"You will not."

"I'll... pick up takeaway for dinner?"

"All right." Arthur turned slightly to his left, enough that he could just brush his nose over Merlin's hair and smell his shampoo. He had that clean, damp, faintly soapy, just-showered scent, the one Arthur had come to associate with their lazy mornings in bed, and that always made fondness and arousal start to thrum through his body. Only Arthur knew what Merlin smelled like, knew how his skin looked pink and damp, fresh out of the shower and that, _that_ was the sort of secret he wanted between him and Merlin.

The urge to press his face into Merlin's hair to kiss him came over Arthur so quickly that he'd already done it before he could decide if he ought to or not.

Merlin sighed happily and curled in closer, his eyes half shut with early morning, pre-caffeine laziness, and Arthur let the slow burn of barely hidden affection warm him along with his own morning tea.

+

"... party tonight?"

Arthur opened one eye, then the other, realized Merlin wasn't talking to him but to somebody on his mobile, and closed both eyes before burrowing back down into the pillows and blankets on Merlin's bed. Arthur was pretty sure Merlin wasn't awake as ridiculously early this morning as he was yesterday. Still too early for a Saturday, though. Early enough that Arthur decided to ignore Merlin's voice and was halfway back to sleep when he felt Merlin's fingers stroking his hair.

That was nice. Merlin's bed was nice. It even smelled nice, something even Arthur's sleep-fuzzed brain found incongruous given the state of the rest of Merlin's flat. It just smelled Merlin-ish -- clean laundry and herbal soap and weird hippie deodorant from the Lush shop and warm, slightly sweaty skin. Sometimes, if Arthur spent more than one night in a row there, it smelled like him, too, his soap and cologne and the combined warmth of his and Merlin's bodies.

"... s'nice," Arthur mumbled into the pillow and moved in closer to Merlin, who was still half-stroking, half-playing with his hair.

"Yeah? You're not even awake," Merlin replied, then added to whomever he was talking to his on mobile, "What? No. That was for Arthur. He's still so sleepy. Okay. Okay, yeah. Yeah, fair enough. Bye." Merlin put the mobile down and scooted in close to Arthur again. "Sleep more?"

"Mmph." Arthur nuzzled his face into Merlin's bare shoulder and forced himself to not fall back asleep quite yet. It felt so good to be muzzy and relaxed and ready to drift off, to let the world blur around him into a feeling of content and sleepy security.

Next to him, Merlin tugged the blankets up and said something that Arthur wasn't awake enough to understand. He laughed when Arthur just sort snuffled in reply and Arthur could feel himself falling asleep while Merlin shifted around to get comfortable.

When he woke up, Arthur found himself spooned up around Merlin, his face tucked into the back of Merlin's shoulder and one of his knees pressed between Merlin's. Though a couple hours must've passed, Merlin's room was still dark and Arthur could hear the soft pitter of rain falling outside the window. He thought about prodding Merlin awake to see if there could be tea or toast or maybe a trip to the café, but decided against it when Merlin nestled in against him and sighed.

"... you finally awake?" Merlin mumbled, his voice a little hoarse from falling back asleep, and reached for Arthur's arm to bring it around his waist.

"I don't know what you mean by finally... just because you've been up for hours, but, yeah. Awake." Arthur nosed through the soft hair at the nape of Merlin's neck until it made Merlin squirm, then move in even closer to him. Smiling, he tightened his arm around Merlin's waist and brought him in so that they were curled into each other under the blankets.

"What's going on? You're pensive this morning. And you were really cuddly last night."

"I was not."

"You were. _Are,_ " Merlin added and snugged himself closer into the arm Arthur had around his waist. "I like it. We never cuddle in the morning."

"Hmph." Arthur rested his cheek against Merlin's shoulder. Couples cuddled and slept like spoons. He and Merlin? They slept together and woke up together and had half-asleep early morning conversations in bed. "How can you tell I'm pensive if you can't even see me?"

"I just can. You're making that pensive sort of sound when you breathe."

"Merlin. That's not even possible."

Merlin shook his head, his hair tickling Arthur's face, and rested his hand atop the one Arthur had on his stomach. "How do you know? Are you listening to yourself? Whose ear have you been breathing into for the past, what, hour?"

"Sometimes I think you're ridiculous on purpose so I won't be able to argue with you." Arthur nudged at Merlin until he moved his head again to allow Arthur to tuck his face back into the comfortable spot at Merlin's shoulder. "What party's going on tonight? You were talking to --"

"Ah, Freya. She and Gwen are having some sort of do to celebrate Freya getting that grant to study in Spain next summer.."

"That's rather impromptu."

"Freya says it's easier to plan things that way, so Gwen doesn't ending up fussing."

Arthur hummed in agreement, thinking more about Merlin's warm body pressed into his than about whatever they might be doing later on. The distance between where they were now, curled under the blue fleece blankets on Merlin's bed surrounded by the rainy morning gloom, and where they might end up that evening stretched long and lazy in front of Arthur.

The thought came to him suddenly that, if he could, he would let the distance between morning and evening keep on stretching, unwinding into some indiscernible future. Then he wouldn't have to worry what any morning, or evening, or afternoon would be like when he wouldn't be the one to hear Merlin's sleepy-rough good morning voice, or the one to bury his nose in Merlin's hair and smell the herbal shampoo scent of it before he came awake enough himself to say good morning.

That thought sent that strange ache into his chest, the one he'd been trying to wish into non-existence for the past couple days.

This morning, he pushed it back instead of wishing it away, pushed it past his heart and ribcage, squeezed it between his lungs so that when he breathed, there was no painful hitch in his chest. He'd known Merlin for two years now and had been sleeping with him for six months -- six months of lazy mornings and long evenings and afternoons having the kind of sex he'd never imagined was possible with anyone, let alone Merlin. But Merlin had caught him at a rare, vulnerable moment that first time and since then, it had been so easy to let Merlin keep on finding all the small, hidden places where he was vulnerable.

Merlin shifted against him, murmured something about Arthur going pensive again, and sighed his sleepy little sigh that told Arthur he'd be perfectly content with drowsing in bed for another hour or so.

"You need to stop thinking about stuff so much, you know?" Merlin said after they'd both dozed quietly for a few minutes.

"What? I'm not."

"You are. And you don't need to."

"No?" Arthur stroked the tips of his fingers over Merlin's belly.

"No, promise. But, hm... you do need to keep on doing that." Merlin stretched, then practically purred when Arthur rubbed a slow, warm circle over his stomach.

"What if I never actually stopped?" Kissing Merlin, then smiling into the curve of his shoulder, Arthur slowed his touch so he could pay more attention to the quiet, pleased sounds Merlin was making for him.

"Then I'd have to stay in bed with you every morning."

"All right," Arthur said and hid another smile in Merlin's neck again when Merlin laughed. "All right, then I won't stop and keep you here for myself."

Merlin laughed again, his stomach muscles tightening and jumping under Arthur's hand and his body curling more tightly into Arthur's, so warm and familiar that Arthur laughed himself. He'd share Merlin later on when they were at the party, and then he wouldn't mind if Merlin pressed in, affectionate or fond, next to any of their friends, or if he curled up in a corner with Freya to discuss something from one of their writing courses, because Arthur would remember how he'd had Merlin all to himself all morning, and how Merlin had laughed because Arthur knew how to map his hands over Merlin's body in just the right manner to draw that laughter from him.

Arthur rubbed his face into Merlin's neck and nosed up around the curve of Merlin's ear, enjoying how Merlin's laughter caught in his throat and turned to a gasp. Merlin liked this, too, how Arthur would breath ticklishly over his ear and nuzzle against him, coaxing, gentle and teasing, and slip his hand down over Merlin's stomach to palm his growing hardness.

And Arthur loved everything about these mornings they shared: how Merlin's ears stuck out from his rumply bed-hair and how sensitive he was to the nuzzlings Arthur would give him; how Arthur knew all his sensitive spots, all the ones that made him gasp and laugh and get hard when Arthur touched them, how Arthur -- only Arthur -- could wake him up with a few whispered words and a firm hand to his morning erection; how letting himself unfold, letting himself be open and vulnerable, had been part of discovering Merlin.

This morning, Merlin was lazy and pliant, loose with having stayed in bed hours later than usual and warm with desire. He shifted to press back up against Arthur, nudging his arse at Arthur's cock, and letting out a final gasp of laughter at Arthur's reaction, a deep groan and kiss to the shell of Merlin's ear.

Wrapping his fingers around Merlin's cock, Arthur kept up the nuzzling a little longer, tickling at Merlin's ear until he felt a full-body shiver run through Merlin. He brought Merlin off slowly and steadily, matching the rhythm of his strokes to that of Merlin's breathing, so that when Merlin came, he came hard and messy and with his breath trembling at the edge of his lips. It was the trembling that did Arthur in, though, the shiver that went through his arms and legs and breath, the gasping helplessness.

His hand slick with Merlin's come, Arthur pressed his cock between Merlin's thighs and relished how it rubbed against the smooth skin and rougher hair. This was how they had sex during these lazy mornings together, bodies pressing and rubbing against each other, wet and slick and sweaty. He came himself before he could choose if he liked this better than the frantic, heated sex, and found himself deciding when he was spent and curled back up around Merlin, that this was what he really liked best: knowing Merlin well enough to to know the angles of his body and meter of his breath.

+

"I hate Sundays."

"You do not." Merlin handed Arthur a glass of water and a couple nurofen tablets.

"I _do._ Don't tell me what I don't like. How would you know anyway? I mean. Ugh." Arthur closed his eyes and scrubbed both hands over his face. "I also hate alcohol. All the alcohol... It's all Completely Evil. I understand the temperance movement now."

"Yeah, and it's all hating you back this morning. Here. Take."

Arthur peeked out over the tips of his fingers to see Merlin offering him the water and painkillers again. The thought of swallowing anything made his stomach roil, but the thought of having to eat lunch with his father and sister in this condition made it clench tightly. He accepted the water, took a few sips, and swallowed down the tablets before he could change his mind again.

"There. Good. I'll go make us some tea. What time is lunch?" Merlin scooted closer to Arthur on the bed and reached up to stroke Arthur's hair back from his forehead.

"Noon? Or. Ngh... They're coming at noon."

"Okay. We have a couple hours. Tea, then shower, then... god, you're so hungover."

Arthur grumbled in reply and insinuated himself closer so Merlin would keep on stroking his hair. They'd come back to Arthur's flat last night, sleepy and very drunk and happy, and had only managed to get half-undressed before crashing on the sofa. There'd been a fair amount of sloppy kissing and clumsy groping at the party and an hour of dozing off at home had led to some more sloppy, clumsy sex before they made it to the bedroom.

The memory lulled Arthur; he nuzzled at Merlin's ear and thought about telling Merlin how amazing Merlin's tongue had felt licking aimlessly over his chest and stomach, and how his body had somehow felt new and strange and perfect last night.

"Arthur? Lunch? What time? So we don't show up late," Merlin asked and nudged Arthur up off his shoulder.

Arthur's stomach clenched again and the massive headache grew a bit more massive when the meaning of Merlin's words filtered through. "You're not coming to lunch."

"Sure I am. I'm not nearly as hungover as you are and --"

"-- and --"

" _And,_ " Merlin continued before Arthur could, "and your family already knows me. I can deflect attention away from you in your sorry state."

Arthur tried to think of an argument, but the combination of splitting headache and pre-tea Merlin-logic was too much for him to handle. "Fine. But please don't spill salad dressing this time."

+

Merlin spilled the salad dressing. On Arthur's father.

_Twice._

Which he really ought to have managed to have not done, given that neither Merlin nor Uther were actually having salad for lunch that afternoon.

But he'd also put on a button up shirt and smart jumper instead of his usual haphazard arrangement of tee shirts, jumper, one of his own or Arthur's hoodies, and scarf. And he'd talked to Morgana about poetry and sounded genuinely interested when he asked to read whatever she was working on at the moment. After lunch and a walk around the uni campus, he'd come back to Arthur's flat again, had a very long, very hot shower with Arthur, and settled back on Arthur's bed, clad in only a borrowed pair of pajama bottoms, to rub the tension from Arthur's back.

"I'm going to do something nice for you."

"Yeah?" Merlin pressed his thumbs between Arthur's shoulder blades and rubbed firmly. "The last time you did something nice for me I couldn't find anything in my kitchen cupboards for three weeks without texting to ask you where it was first."

"Oh. Right. Well. Something nice but not organizational, though I think the color-coding was perfectly comprehensible." Arthur arched up until he groaned at Merlin's touch. "Something nice in exchange..."

"You do nice things for me," Merlin said in a soft voice and leaned in to kiss Arthur's shoulder where he'd just loosened up the tension. "You buy me biscuits and make sure I leave and go to lecture on time. You had lunch with my Mum when she came to visit, too."

"That's different."

"How?"

"Your Mum's lovely," Arthur replied and felt himself start to tense again. Lunch with Arthur's family hadn't been terrible, but there had been the vague disappointment Arthur always seemed to sense from his father and the vague boredom from his sister.

"Your Dad's not so bad. In a … distant with super high expectations sort of way. He's fond of you," Merlin said. "And not so fond of me."

"You take getting used to." Arthur stretched, then relaxed as Merlin kept rubbing the tension from his shoulders and back. He'd half-dozed off when Merlin settled in next to him and put his face right by Arthur's on the pillow, surprising him out of the doze with one of his ridiculously open grins. The tip of his nose brushed Arthur's and his breath ghosted over Arthur's lips. "What?"

"Hey. What about you? Are you used to me?" Merlin grinned for a second, and then looked serious. "I mean... are you?"

"What does that even mean? Of course I am. I've stopped complaining about the nonsensical texts you send me in the middle of the night."

"Right, yeah, but --"

"And I sleep with you. I mean -- yeah, we fuck, but I actually _sleep_ with you." Arthur nudged his nose against Merlin's and smiled. There were a few faint freckles over the bridge of Merlin's long, narrow nose and a tiny scar on his left cheek, none of which you could really see unless you were this close to him. Arthur smiled again and pressed fond a kiss to Merlin's nose, to his lips, and to his chin. "Are you worried?"

"No, not really, it's just... you're being all think-y lately. I don't know. Are you --"

Arthur stopped, his lips just grazing the edge of Merlin's jawline as Merlin tilted his head to get Arthur to keep on kissing him. "No."

"You didn't let me finish." Merlin glanced sideways at Arthur. "No what? What was I going to ask?"

Arthur's chest clenched and he tried to hide his face in Merlin's neck, but Merlin prodded him until he looked up once more. "I don't know. Bored. Or... or something like that. And I'm not. All right?"

"All right," Merlin said softly and tipped his head further to the side to allow Arthur to snuggle in closer. "Though that's not what I was going to ask."

Arthur pressed his nose into the crook of Merlin's neck and snuffled against him, breathing in all the good things that just meant Merlin to his senses. Merlin: his best friend (with benefits). Merlin was his best friend and best friends who slept together got married or partnered or... they stopped. Sleeping together. Being best friends. Stopped sending each other ridiculous texts and meeting for early morning breakfast and discussing family-weekend-visit trauma.

Arthur's chest hurt. If he concentrated on the scent of Merlin's skin and the feel of his fingertips, it hurt a little less; if he thought about it, the ache sharpened into a desire that was at once selfish and possessive and secret.

Merlin's fingers skated over Arthur's side and paused at the waist to his boxers. He dipped one finger beneath them, stroked Arthur's skin in that stupidly tender way he had sometimes, as if Arthur were something precious and breakable to him. "If you really are, you'd tell me, right? If you were bored of me? Because I could probably come up with something relatively exciting to do in bed or --"

"God. Merlin. I'm not. I'm not …. not even a little bit. I promise." Arthur nuzzled at Merlin's neck again and brushed his nose softly over Merlin's ear. "You don't need to be any more exciting than you already are."

"Okay, I believe you. You get so serious sometimes when all I want to do is make things as good for you as possible. You know," Merlin said, stroking Arthur's skin once more. "We've spent most of today in bed."

Arthur's heart felt weird and tight in his chest as if the knowledge of why he couldn't let himself just be friends with Merlin, why he felt as if he could never get bored or tired of falling asleep or waking up next to Merlin unfolded inside him. And Merlin didn't even -- maybe couldn't even -- conceive of how things could be different between them, how they could be new and good and exciting.

"Hey... Arthur, hey, you all right? Do you still feel hungover? I can get you a kebab or something." Merlin was stroking his hair now and there was an odd, concerned look on his face when Arthur raised his head to look at Merlin. "What's wrong?"

"What? Oh. Nothing. And, Merlin, no, kebabs are not the solution to all of life's problems."

"Just most of them?"

Arthur sighed and started to press kisses over the freckles on Merlin's nose again, wondering if he'd ever have the strength to not do this when Merlin gave Arthur his oddly adorable lopsided smile. "Just most of them," Arthur replied and kept on kissing Merlin all over until they were both so hard that he could ignore the rushing, reckless feeling that coursed through him.

+

Of course, he couldn't avoid that feeling for long. Spending Sunday afternoon and the evening in bed with Merlin meant that it kept on coming over him, alternating between the selfishness of wanting to keep Merlin all to himself and the recklessness of knowing that he couldn't, but that he would try to as if he could.

Arthur spent Monday and Tuesday going to his lectures, then drooping about his flat, claiming he had too much non-reading coursework to go meet Gwen and Merlin at the café during the afternoon or at the pub in the evening.

Wednesday he spent in the library; Thursday he went running and watched the snooker on telly and even sat down and read the business section of three newspaper. He told himself that this was part of the process of getting un-used to Merlin, of not falling in love with Merlin. All these little things -- exercise and sport and what was eventually supposed to be his career -- they were all things he had before he had Merlin. He didn't need to bracket those moments with ones where he talked to or touched or smiled at Merlin. Maybe he ought to find a boyfriend or a girlfriend before Merlin found a boyfriend or before he was so tangled up in his feelings for Merlin that nothing or nobody else would ever work like what he had with Merlin.

By Thursday night Arthur was thoroughly tired of himself, but didn't know how else to deal with the fact that not seeing Merlin only made him feel marginally better than seeing him.

"Did you get it all done? Does being a hermit work?" Merlin asked when he rang Arthur late that evening.

"I suppose, yeah. I did manage to get all my coursework done a lot more quickly without you wittering on next to me."

"I don't believe that," Merlin said. Arthur could hear him fixing tea in the background, mugs clattering and Merlin humming as he looked for the proper tea bags. "You did not."

"I did so," Arthur replied. He'd only meant for his words to erase the comfort that being familiar with Merlin's evening tea-making process brought to him, but they ended up sounding sharp and cruel.

"Oh." Merlin went quiet for a while. "Did you want... should we still do Friday at the café? It's fine if you don't."

Merlin's question was so tentative, so un-Merlin-like, that the sound of his voice only magnified the yearning ache inside Arthur. He raked a hand through his hair, imagined Merlin padding around the kitchen in a tee shirt and boxers, and didn't even try to stop the smile from appearing on his face. God. He wanted to be there with Merlin, not having an awkward phone conversation with him like this. Why couldn't things have stayed easy between them? "Yeah, let's have breakfast at your Caffè Nero. I can even ring you when I get up if you want me to since that'll be an early morning for you on Friday."

"Brilliant! And, no, no, see, I'll text you tonight and tomorrow morning so we remember to meet since … Um. Since you worked on your own today," Merlin finished, his voice going a bit uncertain towards the end, but at least the peculiar silence had disappeared.

Arthur showered after ending the conversation with Merlin, had a rather fast and surprisingly satisfying wank in the shower, and pondered falling asleep listening to the most depressing music he could find on his iPod.

It didn't help, though. The conversation and series of text messages that followed -- all lines of the latest e.e. cummings's poem that Merlin had discovered and instantly adored -- left him smiling and hopeful.

God. He couldn't be legitimately in love with his best friend, could he? It shouldn't come in turns like this, the desperate aching and the happy anticipation.

It was _absurd._ He was being absurd. He was having breakfast with Merlin, just like they always did on Friday, and there nothing exciting or absurd about that.

Except, of course, for the utter, inexplicable, absurd excitement that fluttered at the edge of Arthur's thoughts, hovering until his sleepy mind tried to grasp it, and dissipating a second thereafter.

+

After breakfast, Arthur retreated to the back of the library stacks to work on one of his term-long business projects for most of Friday afternoon. The plan wasn't the most foolproof, given that Merlin knew where to find him in times of crisis.

Not that this was a crisis, per se. Arthur just needed alone time. Non-Merlin time. Time to try and think through the past few days and the past few hours, and how he'd tried so hard to not get used to the idea of Merlin wanting to be with him, and how easy it had been to fall back into the relaxed pattern of seeing his life as one that ought to be lived alongside Merlin's.

What if Merlin tired of spending so much time with him, or met somebody else and wouldn't be able to spend time with Arthur the way he did now. And it wasn't so much the sex, though God knew Arthur would miss the way Merlin's body seemed to match up with his, and the way Merlin knew when to use his hands or mouth before Arthur even asked.

People changed. Their lives changed and the things they wanted from life changed.

Merlin _would_ be the one who got bored with all this: their mornings at the café, their evenings curled up in bed talking or doing coursework, the midnight cups of tea when one of them couldn't sleep.

Arthur had changed; something inside of him had transformed before he become aware of what was happening. And, all right, he was still being absurd and over-dramatic, but he hadn't expected his feelings for Merlin to burst into something so complex so suddenly.

So, when Merlin sat on the edge of the table that Arthur was working at in the library, Arthur forced himself to smile and shake his head, to nudge Merlin away when he reached over to brush Arthur's fringe out of his eyes.

"Hey... what's wrong? You've been gone all day, and you didn't answer any of my texts, not even the one about the flying fish. You can't breakfast with me and then abandon me."

"The... flying fish?"

Merlin nodded. "They're in love."

Arthur blinked, then smiled. The exchange was so wonderfully, utterly _Merlin_ that for a second Arthur forgot that he was trying to de-Merlin-ify his heart. He slipped his mobile out the pocket of his jeans and flicked through his messages, grinning when he got to the few about the Flying Fish Romance (Merlin's term, not his) and especially the last one, where Merlin reminded him that he loved Merlin's quirks enough that Merlin was sure he wanted to move into the Quirkyverse (Merlinish Lexicon again, obviously) they'd created.

"Come on. Beer, then chips. It'll make you feel better." Merlin's hand touched his hair again and stroked the fringe back from Arthur's forehead.

"Merlin."

" _Arthurrr..._." Merlin drew his name out into an annoying whine, then leaned in and kissed Arthur on the forehead. The sound he made when Arthur pulled away from the touch was one of obvious disappointment. "Arthur, what's wrong? Do you feel ill? Maybe not beer and chips, then..."

"I'm not ill. I'm just..."

"What? Are you sure you're feeling all right?" Merlin started to shuffle papers together and move Arthur's books into a pile so he could start packing them up. Like he always did when he'd decided he and Arthur had spent enough time in the library and it was time for food or sleep or sex or telly.

"I feel _fine._ " Arthur actually tried for sharp this time, but his voice just... it sort of failed him while he watched Merlin pack his bag up and give him a frown of concern.

"No, see, you don't get to that. Not with me, you don't." Merlin tugged Arthur's binder from his hands and started putting it, along with Arthur's textbook, into his bag. "Do you really think I don't notice when you're completely miserable? Or when something's making you so unhappy that you're not sleeping? And, by the way, you totally need to relax and get a good night's sleep. And what about me? Doesn't it count that I miss seeing you? Arthur," Merlin said in a softer voice and touched Arthur's hair again, "Let me take you out, and then take you home, all right?"

"You can't -- it's not like -- you're not my _boyfriend,_ all right, Merlin?"

Merlin stopped, stared at Arthur for a moment, his expression somewhere between confused and hurt. He sat down slowly next to Arthur and glanced around their corner of the library. "Oh."

"I didn't mean..."

"Oh." Merlin said again and started to draw patterns on the study table with his little finger. "That's what all this has been about."

"No, it's--"

"Yeah, it is. Is that what you want, though? A boyfriend? Because --"

Arthur braced himself for the possibility of either an argument or incredibly emotional conversation in the library. "Maybe we shouldn't --"

"Because I could be, I think," Merlin interrupted him and looked up at Arthur. "I've never really been good at being anyone's boyfriend, but I could probably do all right at being your boyfriend."

"I - what?"

"I mean, I never really thought about it, but now I am. Thinking about it and liking the thought. And maybe this is sort of weird to be doing in the middle of the history section in the library, but... I could be your boyfriend," Merlin finished and gave Arthur what looked very much like a little hopeful smile. "You... said you were used to me," he offered when Arthur didn't reply.

"Oh god. Oh god help me, _I am._ I'm completely used to your absurd texting habits and your _mouth_ and everything. Your everything," Arthur added in soft voice and touched the side of Merlin's face. "I don't know how to not be used to your everything."

Merlin ducked his head, then shifted from his seat on the table to one of the chairs. He pulled himself in closer to Arthur and put on his reading glasses, and studied Arthur for a few long, silent minutes. "Is that it?"

"What?" Arthur touched Merlin's face again. Fuck, they were in the library on a Friday and he was stroking Merlin's face because he could and he didn't want to stop, he didn't want anything about this moment to stop, because if it did, then he might ruin it.

"Is that what you were trying to do? Not be used to me?"

"I..." Arthur skimmed one fingertip over the rise of Merlin's cheekbone. "I wasn't sure how to tell you."

"Arthur, you're such an idiot sometimes. Come on, let's go. This is getting non-library appropriate. You don't want to frighten the books."

+

"So, exactly what part about not telling me things did you think was going to work?" Merlin asked after they'd had something to eat and had stretched out on Arthur's sofa.

"Well. The part about me wanting to keep you to myself and not share you with anyone ever. Thought that would go over rather poorly," Arthur said and leaned down to kiss Merlin's lips.

"All right, yeah. Are you going to be a creepy boyfriend?"

"No more than usual."

"Great. Hey," Merlin said, "you know what's going to be different now?"

Arthur drew away, enough to search Merlin's face. "What?"

"Mm... not much, really, which is really good. Now I'm wishing you'd had an emo attack sooner." Merlin wriggled next to Arthur until he could pull Arthur on top of him, then smiled up at Arthur. "This is going to be good, though."

"Yeah?" Arthur traced his nose down the length of Merlin's to his lips and stayed close until Merlin kissed him. "You know that already?"

"Well, I know _you._ I know how you read the poems I text you and how you laugh when I kiss your sides and how you work really hard and how you take care of me and how you let me take care of you and --"

"Yes," Arthur pressed his mouth to Merlin's and breathed in Merlin's surprised reaction.

"A-and -- Mph! -- And you speak French and read a million newspapers and you're all _Arthur_ about everything." Merlin threaded his fingers through Arthur's hair to keep Arthur's mouth close to his. "I like your everything, too."

"Does that mean I get to do things for you now?"

Merlin played with the hair behind Arthur's ear, rumpling it up, then smoothing it back down again, and tugging Arthur down to slip his tongue between Arthur's lips. "Yeah. Yeah, now you can do all the things for me."

And so he would. Starting with pulling Merlin off the sofa and into the bedroom, laying Merlin down naked onto the clean, cool sheets, and kissing his way down the ridges of Merlin's spine to the warm dip of sensitive skin at its base. Arthur nuzzled softly, one hand at Merlin's hip, the other reaching to stroke himself.

He would do all the things. All the things Merlin liked best, and spend as much time as he could, as many mornings and stolen afternoons and evenings, doing them.

Tonight, once he was hard and Merlin was starting to sound impatient, he fingered Merlin with slippery-slick fingers, pushing inside him and teasing him until his breath became whimpers, ragged-edged with want. The trembling went through Arthur before Merlin even shivered; there'd been no great change, just like Merlin had said there wouldn't be, but when Merlin pushed back against Arthur's fingers and whimpered breathless and rough, Arthur _knew._ He knew the difference in his own touch and the difference in the way Merlin yielded to him, the difference of his own yielding and of the slickness and the hardness and the heat of their bodies when he pressed inside Merlin.

They'd said that there was nothing between them before, just sex and friendship, and now it felt like everything was unfolding between them.

\+ + +

Arthur flicked his mobile open and stared down at the text:

_and the reason / that i do not fall into this street_

From Merlin, of course, who was waiting in line to buy Arthur his morning tea and a muffin, as if that were his boyfriendly duty from now on.

Not that Arthur minded. Not at all. He found, even after a few months, that he still liked the newness of Merlin's hand on his arm as they walked into the café and the proprietary way Merlin glanced back at Arthur while he talked to Percy up at the counter. He liked standing in the kitchen at the end of the day or in the middle of the night, watching Merlin make tea and leaning into the murmuring kisses Merlin would press to his shoulders while the tea steeped.

He liked how Merlin knew where he was ticklish, how he knew to ask Arthur about how the financial news fit into his business courses, and how he knew when to ask Arthur about the phone calls from his father and when to just sit with Arthur and watch the telly for a while after he got off the phone. And he was dangerously close to loving how Merlin nestled into him before they both fell asleep, his fingers stroking Arthur's skin and his hair warm and soft against Arthur's shoulder, and how it felt as if he'd never be able to sleep quite as soundly as he did with Merlin near to him.

It was all as incredibly absurd as Arthur thought it would be and as incredibly good as Merlin had told him it would be.

So he texted back _yes_ and saved the rest of the line for later, to show Merlin he'd memorized it, just as he'd memorized the freckles over the bridge of Merlin's nose and the curve of his stomach, all during their secret moments together.


End file.
